and draped it over the draining-rack.
'Now, Peter,' he said, 'if you'd set the alarm again.'
'We're going?' asked Pascoe.
'Oh no. We're staying,' said Dalziel.
He led the way upstairs. Silently, the other three followed.
Dalziel opened the master bedroom, looked with approval at the large, deep, double bed, removed his shoes, and spread himself out across the silk coverlet.
'Wake me when they come,' he said closing his eyes.
'When who come?'
One red-shot eye opened.
'The burglars,' said Dalziel. 'That's what we're here for, isn't it? To catch some burglars.'
The eye closed. The fat man appeared to sleep.
Just after eight o'clock, they all started, except Dalziel, as they heard a distant noise. It was the grind of an approaching vehicle. Pascoe joined Wield at the window. An old green van was coming up the drive. It turned and disappeared along the side of the house, momentarily revealing the legend
'Are they here then?' said Dalziel, sitting up. 'Let's take a shufti out the back.'
He rolled off the bed and went out on to the landing and walked round till he reached one of the bedrooms overlooking the rear.
'The gardeners?' said Pascoe, following him. 'You mean, it's
'It's in Arthur Marsh's file,' said Dalziel. 'That unemployment benefit fiddle he got done for - he was working for a gardening firm. I'm surprised that didn't strike you as odd, Peter! Trained electrician. If he'd wanted to do a bit of moonlighting, why start humping wheelbarrows and garden forks about?'
'He's there. Jonty's there!' said Singh, excitedly peering between the drawn curtains. 'And Artie too. I can see them!'
'Can you? Good lad. Watch you don't move them curtains though,' said Dalziel.
'But if you spotted this yesterday, why didn't you say anything,' said Pascoe indignantly.
'It was just a theory, lad,' said Dalziel soothingly. 'Besides, I weren't sure whether Arthur Marsh was using the gardening job just to case places which he then turned over independently, or whether the whole firm was in it. He might have dropped in last night, in which case, the 'nick was all yours. But when I checked this morning and nothing had happened, then theory two seemed to be on.'
'They don't much look as if they're planning to break in,' said Wield, who'd joined Singh.
'What do you want? Masks and bags marked 'Swag'?' demanded Dalziel. 'They've got work to do in the garden, haven't they? They're paid to be here. They're entitled to be here! That's the beauty of it.'
Pascoe produced Aldermann's list of tradesmen and others who would know the house was going to be empty and quickly scanned it.
'He doesn't mention the gardeners,' he complained.
'Why should he? Likely he just mentioned the people he's cancelled, like milk and newspapers,' said Dalziel. 'He wouldn't cancel the gardeners. Gardens keep on growing even while you're away. I checked one of the other places that'd been done. Yes, they had Caldicott's one morning a week. Yes, they remembered Artie, he was the friendly one, always popping in to fill his teapot, always ready to help in the house with a bit of lifting or moving. It's a good set-up, isn't it? Lots of opportunity to case the target. And no crawling around in the middle of the night. You just drive up at your usual time and some time during the day, when observation's taught you you're least likely to be interrupted, you get inside, lift what you want, dump it in the van in a couple of old sacks, and drive off with it!'
'Eventually they'd have run out of houses,' said Pascoe in an aggrieved tone.
'Yes, likely they would. That would certainly have been another way of stopping them,' said Dalziel judiciously.
'Why'd they bring in Jonty Marsh, sir?' wondered Wield.
'There was another lad, Caldicott junior, I think you'll find. Only he broke his arm the other week.'
'Harrogate,' said Pascoe, remembering the torn ivy that Ivan Skelwith had pointed out. 'I bet that was at Harrogate.'
'Aye, and likely they needed another nippy little sod to do any clambering about that was needed, so Arthur recommended his kid brother.'
'They still don't look as if they're up to anything,' said Wield doubtfully.
'O ye of little faith,' said Dalziel. 'Come back to the front bedroom.'
Obediently they followed. Wield and Singh resumed their watch at the front window, stupidly in both their opinions as the gardeners were all round the back. Then ten minutes later, Singh said, 'Here's somebody. It's the postman!'
He cycled up to the front door, sorted out his mail, thrust it through. On his way back he diverted to the side of the house and addressed himself to somebody, then passed from sight.
'He'll be having a cup of tea,' said Dalziel. 'It'll be a habit every Tuesday morning. They're not going to let him see owt suspicious, are they?'
